The Safety of Your Arms
by Saskatoon
Summary: Daryl never thought he would meet someone more damaged than himself. All his life he believed he was meant to be alone, that he would never be able to love anyone without hurting them. And then he meets Chloe, a girl running from her abusive boyfriend, and suddenly Daryl finds himself wanting to protect her, heal her, love her. AU, Daryl/OC. M for future smut and mentions of abuse.


I just had this idea sitting in my head. Total Walking Dead AU, sort of based off a dream I had.

Of course I own nothing but my original characters.

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Chapter One: Damaged

* * *

Chloe spread the newspaper out over the cheap laminate table that dominated all of the space between the hotel room door and the bed. She had a felt pen in one hand and was scouring the rental pages, looking for a place to call home. She wasn't concerned about money, she had more than she would ever need, but she was concerned about location. She needed something small, something tucked away, preferably on a street with other similar houses, or on some secluded road in the mountains. She needed anonymity more than she needed square footage.

Besides, it wasn't like she had much to take with her anyway. Just her old station wagon. A couple suitcases filled with clothes. An old lamp. The quilt her mother had stitched for her before she was born. A bassinet that would go unused now…

Chloe's hand went instinctively to her belly, now flat, and a lump rose up in her throat. A flash of memory went through her mind before she could stop it: the smell of whiskey on his breath, his harsh voice, the crinkle of paper, the slap of his palm on her skin, the broken coffee table, blood…so much blood. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. She wouldn't think about that now.

She concentrated on the paper, on the rental ads, and took a steadying sip of coffee from the complimentary Styrofoam cup she had picked up in the lobby. It tasted like tar, and was about the same consistency, but she appreciated the heat and the surge of caffeine.

An ad caught her attention. It was in the middle of the page, only a couple of lines long and squeezed between two larger, bolder listings.

It read: Cabin for rent in Blue Ridge. 1 br, 1ba, gas appliances. 1 acre lot. Private.

Blue Ridge wasn't far from here, but it was far enough away from Atlanta for Chloe to consider it. She wrote the phone number down and decided to call on it in the morning.

She threw out the coffee and turned out the lamp on the bedside table. She went to sleep in her jeans, unable to bring herself to take them off and expose the still healing bruises that covered her legs, that wrapped around her torso, and spread like a rash over the tops of her arms.

She was safe now. She was on her own with the money her grandmother had willed to her, and she was safe.

_Safe, safe, safe_. She repeated the words in her head like a mantra as she drifted to sleep, but they didn't keep the nightmares at bay.

* * *

Daryl cursed and kicked the busted tire on his truck. This was the third time that stupid tire had blown in as many weeks, and he couldn't afford to replace it. It had been patched so many times, but the rubber was worn too thin now.

He pulled the keys from the ignition with more force than necessary and threw them against the garage wall. He'd always had a foul temper, especially when something happened that could have been easily prevented. If his idiot brother Merle hadn't robbed that convenience store, if Daryl hadn't needed to spot him the money for his lawyer's fees, then maybe Daryl would be able to afford a new tire.

That was a big maybe. Daryl had worked as a rough neck from the time he turned eighteen, making good money working the rigs, but a few months ago, on his 33rd birthday, he'd decided he needed a change. Rough necking was a young man's work, and while it had given Daryl a strong body and a decent paycheck, he could feel the wear on his joints, on his back. So he had taken his savings and invested in a garage right here in Blue Ridge.

Two things Daryl had always known were hunting and cars. So he turned his knowledge of mechanics into a business. His garage had been open for a month now and was generating a good income, especially from tourists with blown gaskets or overheated engines. But he'd had to take all of his profit and funnel it into a defense lawyer for Merle, a hefty tab he was still paying on, and it hadn't even worked. Merle was serving time for aggravated assault and robbery, and Daryl was left with the bill. Seemed like the story of his life, always having to clean up his older brother's messes.

Daryl sighed and ran a hand through his hair. It was a little long, and he thought absently that he'd need to cut it soon. His eyes darted around the garage until they landed on an oblong shape covered by a dirty old sheet. He grinned and walked over to it and pulled the sheet off.

Merle's motorcycle gleamed in the early morning light coming in through the window. Black like sin. Shiny with chrome accents.

Daryl had to get to work somehow, and his brother wasn't here. What Merle didn't know wouldn't hurt any of them. So Daryl grabbed the keys and hopped on the bike. It roared to life and he coasted it down the driveway, past the towering trees dropping leaves for winter, down to the road.

Daryl lived in a small house tucked away in the woods, but it didn't take long to reach the center of town. His garage was on the eastern edge of the city, and when he pulled into the parking lot, there was already a car waiting for him.

"Mornin' Daryl," Carol called from the front seat of her Cherokee. Her daughter, Sophia, wasn't with her and Daryl figured she must have dropped the kid off to school already.

"Hey," he said, walking to the building and opening up the main office. It was a chilly morning, and he could see his breath rise up in front of him. "Sorry I'm late. Car trouble."

"Seems ironic," Carol said, following him inside and waiting by the front desk as he went around flipping on lights. "I brought some muffins. Blueberry. I hope you're hungry."

"Thanks," Daryl said casually. That's how he had to be with Carol, casual. Ever since her husband, Ed, had died, and Daryl had helped her clear out and sell some of Ed's old guns and collectibles to pay for the funeral, Carol had developed a bit of a crush on him. Daryl liked Carol as a person. She was kind to him, and she genuinely loved her daughter. But he didn't have any romantic feelings for her. He couldn't give her what she really wanted. So he kept an emotional distance from her.

Besides, Daryl had never done well in relationships. He was too scarred, had too many skeletons in his closet. Things always ended badly, and he attributed a big part of that to him. He had issues with his temper; he said things he didn't mean. He had never raised his hands to a woman, and he never would, but sometimes his words would get away from him. Sometimes he was just a straight asshole.

"What can I do you for? Ready to get that gas cap replaced? And change out the filters?" Daryl started the coffee pot and turned to face her.

"Just a tire rotation today," Carol said. "Newsman said we might have frost on the ground by Saturday. Don't want to be slipping around the roads."

"Gotcha'," Daryl said. "Gimme a minute." Carol handed him the keys to her car and he went out to move it to the back where he could get it on the lift.

By the time he got the car moved around Glenn, his hired mechanic, had arrived looking like he hadn't quite slept one off.

"Cherokee needs a rotation," Daryl said by way of good morning.

Glenn nodded. "Any coffee?" he croaked.

"It's percolatin'."

"I feel like I got hit in the head with a machete. And my mouth tastes like someone shit in it," Glenn said.

"Sounds like Southern Comfort," Daryl said, tossing a rag to Glenn. "Might wanna wipe those words off your face."

Glenn frowned and used one of the office windows to peek at his reflection. The words SHORT ROUND were inked onto his forehead. "Damn." He licked the rag and scrubbed at his face.

"Serves you right for partyin' with a bunch of Frat boys," Daryl said.

"Yeah, yeah. I only went because Maggie wanted to."

"A pretty face will be the ruin of you."

"Then it's a good thing I spend most of the day looking at your ugly mug," Glenn said.

Daryl laughed. He didn't often let people turn him into a joke, but his fondness for Glenn went beyond the normal relationship between boss and employee. He had taken Glenn under his wing, had taught him about cars and tried to impart as much wisdom as he could on the young man. Glenn had come to him a month ago as a recent college grad with no job prospects, debating whether or not he should enlist in the Army until the economy turned around, and Daryl had seen in him something of himself. A young man trying to make it in the world, with no help from his family. So Daryl had offered him a job, first as a desk attendant, and then, when it became apparent that Glenn was a quick study, as his assistant mechanic. He didn't regret the decision.

"Hey speaking of pretty faces," Glenn said, still scrubbing at his forehead. "There's a girl waiting in the office."

"I already spoke to Carol," Daryl said.

"No, not Carol. A young woman, blond. She's standing at the counter talking to Carol."

Daryl looked through the window and, sure enough, there was another woman in the office. Her back was facing the window as she spoke with Carol, but Daryl could tell she was young, an out-of- towner if the map in her hands was any indication. Probably lost and looking for directions up to the mountains.

Daryl opened the door to the office and walked inside. "Can I help you?"

The girl jumped at the sound of his voice and turned. She was a small thing, but not as young as he had first thought. Not a teenager on a road trip up to the mountains. She looked to be somewhere in her early twenties. Big blue eyes. Blond hair that fell past her shoulders. Pixie-like features. She looked like a little doll. A terrified little doll. The look on her face was like a cornered mouse.

"Oh Daryl, perfect. This is Chloe, she's looking to rent that cabin off Rinick Road. You live up there, don't you?" Carol asked.

"Yep," he indicated the map the girl, Chloe, was holding. "If you're lookin' for Rinick just keep on Old 76 til' you reach Aska. Rinick is right off Aska, bout' two miles down."

Chloe looked down at the map, charted it with her eyes, and then looked back up at him. "Thank you," she said, and her voice was as soft as she looked.

He just nodded, feeling as uncomfortable, suddenly, as she appeared to be. Carol stepped up to the counter then. She offered the muffin tin toward the girl with a smile. "Hungry?"

Chloe shook her head. "No, thank you. I better be going. Thank you both." And then she turned and damn near ran from the building.

"Poor girl," Carol said. "She seems sweet, but sort of…I don't know…"

_Damaged, _Daryl thought.

"Jumpy," Carol said.

He watched the girl get into her old station wagon and drive off. He knew the cabin she was headed over to look at. The Horvaths used to stay there in the summer sometimes, but ever since Dale's wife had passed away, he hadn't been coming back. Finally decided to rent the place out to a permanent resident. The cabin was just up the road from Daryl's own house.

Looked like he might be getting a new neighbor.

* * *

It only took a second for Chloe to fall in love with the cabin. It was small, with a combined living room and kitchen and a bathroom that was only accessible through the bedroom. But it was cozy and there was a stone fireplace in the front room that she figured would heat the whole place. Another bonus was that it came furnished. A soft, faded blue sofa and a small television in the living room. A table with two chairs, and all the necessary appliances, even a washing machine hooked up in the kitchen. There was a bed and a dresser in the bedroom, and plenty of spare blankets and towels in the bathroom pantry. And, best of all, a deadbolt on the front door.

"I'll take it," she said, almost immediately.

Dale Horvath, the older gentleman who owned the cabin, let out a laugh. "I haven't even said how much."

"Doesn't matter," she said, though her cheeks had gone red with embarrassment at her eagerness. "I'll take it." She had arrived at the cabin hours before Dale, and had used the time to scope out the streets around there and had even gone back into town for a quick lunch and to scope out the nearby stores.

Dale shrugged. "Well, rent is $480 a month. That's more to cover taxes and insurance than anything. There's a well behind the cabin, so you'll only be responsible for the electric and gas bills. This place is cable-ready, though you might find it hard to get internet, or even cell phone reception. Better to stay closer to town if that's something you'll be needing."

She shook her head. She didn't own a cellphone and had no use for the internet. "This place is perfect."

"Great, then just let me grab the rental contract from my car and we'll get everything squared away." Dale turned and walked out the front door.

Chloe took a moment to look around, picturing herself really living here. She had seen a bookstore in town, and a craft store. She could fill the place with books and start sewing again. She'd have the time to do it, and there wouldn't be anyone hovering over her shoulder, demanding things of her. She'd be alone here. Safe. She smiled, the first real smile she had let slip in days, and then walked outside to wait for Dale.

He was at his truck, but he had turned away from the open door and was talking to someone. Chloe walked down the porch steps. She could hear Dale's voice and another male. From here she could see the house down the road. The garage door was rolled up, and there was a beat-up old pick-up and a motorcycle visible inside.

Dale moved the slightest bit and then she could see him. The man from the auto shop. He was nodding his head as Dale said something to him, his eyes on the ground as he listened. His clothes were covered in dark grease stains, and his skin looked dirty, but there was something undeniably attractive about his features. Rough, but oddly handsome. His sleeves were rolled up and she could see muscular, tanned arms, and from the way his shirt fell over his chest, she figured the rest of him would be just as defined. He looked like the kind of guy that was used to hard work, and not a stranger to the after-work bar scene. For Chloe this was a dangerous combination, exactly the sort of guy she had fallen in with before…

Suddenly he looked up and made eye contact with her, and Chloe couldn't look away. His eyes were a lighter blue than her own, and they seemed to have the power to freeze her where she stood. A nervous chill raced down her spine and she thought about _him_, about the power he had had over her. She didn't want to feel helpless like that ever again.

But after a few seconds he turned his eyes away, said some sort of farewell to Dale, and started back down the road to his house. Chloe watched him go, feeling more relieved with every step he took.

Dale turned and spotted her there. "Oh, you just missed your new neighbor. Daryl Dixon. Good man, though a little rough around the edges at times. If you ever have any trouble up here you can count on him for help."

_Not likely_, Chloe thought. She would be keeping a distance from men, especially men that reminded her of _him_. This was going to be her safe haven. She wasn't going to let any man walk all over her again.

Dale presented her with a piece of paper and she took it happily.

"Where do I sign?"

* * *

Please review if you liked the story. This is obviously going to be a romance story, but without walkers. Although, the characters from the show will be making appearances throughout!


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